Wild is the Wind: Patterns
by DimensionallyTranscendental
Summary: Follow the adventures of WPC Hailey Clarks as she deciphers patterns murders in the past and the future...   Hopefully a lot better than it sounds
1. Chapter 1

_**Wild is the Wind**_

_**Patterns**_

_**Part 1**_

"My name is Hailey Clarke.

Wait, no. It's WPC Hailey Clarke now.

I severly injured my head in London 2010 and woke up in 1982.

I wake up every day wondering if I'm mad or that metal bar put me into a coma, I don't know. But everyday, for some reason, I feel like this world is becoming more and more like home to me, and I have less and less intention of getting home.

Back to December 31st. 2010"

I silently pressed the button on the tape recorder and sighed.

"2010. Bloody hell. First Sam Tyler, then Alex Drake and now you. Is there something about me that attracts loons?" Asked a deep voice from the door of the interigation room.

"Do you really want me to answer that question, Guv?"

"Fair point. Don't even go there. Do I have to remind you again how you got here, because it seems that you always fail to remember it."

"If it makes you happy, Gov" I said, finishing the last of the Scotch from my glass.

DCI Gene Hunt smiled. He walked over and poured more of the sickly alcohol into my glass and found one for himself, noticably more full than mine. I laughed. Typical Gene Hunt.

"Now you know I hate to be nostalgic but it's always nice to tell a story when you've just kick ten pints of shit out of a couple of murdering Pickies"

He drank from his glass and began his story.

"Now, after Sam Tyler, I started to understand that he was telling the truth about where he came from. And I'm starting to believe this a similar situation happened to Bolly. So, I'll start with you're explaination as Chris so boldly told me with your permission..."

University is never that fun really, even if you're studying something that you have a lot of interest in. Like Amanda has a lot of passion for wanting to beat up most of the suspects that are dragged into the Metropolitan Police Station. She's only a DS. DS Amanda Clarke. Or my passion for Psychology and Biology. I'm 28 and I'm still living with my sister. Still sitting on the sofa, looking hopelessly at paper and jobs. Amanda comes home at exactly 8pm and never fails to add to the smell of Scotch that invaid the flat.

"Try harder and you'll get a job" she said to me, walking into the kitchen and returning with a bottle of Scotch and two glasses. "And if it helps Superintendant Hunt will make you a PC if you're lucky"

"Well thank-you, I'll keep that in mind" I said absently, looking at the papers again while drinking the Scotch.

Her mobile made the most terrible of noises as her ringtone for the holier-than-thou Hunt played.

"Sup"

"Since when do you answer the phone with 'sup'?" Mr Hunt's voice appeared through the phone.

"It's Hailey, that's why. What do you want, Gene?"

"Well, Jack, seeings as you asked so polietly, I'd like you and your boney-arsed sister to go undercover for us."

"Again with the boys names? And why me?"

"Well you're the only trained Psychiatrist..."

"Psycholgist"

"...that I know" He finished ignoring me.

"Sure, but why me?"

"Just put your lovely hi-tops on Alfie, and don't ask questions"

The phone went dead.

I sighed and tighed the laces tighter on my long, black converse and pulled my sister out the door. When the arrived at the station, we were greeted by DCI Carling.

"Bet Hunt didn't bother to tell you any details did he?"

"Nope" I smiled. "Would you care to tell us?"

"We go to Kingston Road where Tucker is hiding. If Amanda tells you anything then you'll knew that he's behind the..."

"Murders of Mick Richards on Grosvenor Road, Colin Brake on Lordship Lane and then most recent Jackie Rayner on Trinity Road"

"Well done, she does tell you stuff."

"No, I'm reading it off the map that's cellotaped to this board. It looks to me that the murders are in a cross and usually the pattern shows where the base is...but the map shows that the base is...right here..." I said absently, pointing all over the map behind me.

"But that's not possible. Are you saying that whoever is responsible is here in this building?"

"What? Of course not."

"Oh"

"I'm saying there is a high chance that they might be...or...below this building. Are there any cellars or a basement in this station?"

"Yeah, but only Hunt's got the key..."

"Well go and ask him for it!"

"...except he lost it in a card game one night a couple of months ago..."

I was getting frustrated now. I hurt when my foot collided with Ray's desk.

"WELL WHO HAS IT THEN?"

"I dunno. Could be one of four people. Hunt, DC Adams, DS Clarke and me...although, come to think of it it's only two people because Hunt doesn't have it and neither do I..."

"Ok, what does this key look like?" I asked, fingering the necklace.

"Well, if I remember correctly, it's silver and has a weird symbol thing on the back. It kinda looks like a pornographic but that quite pornographic thing..."

"Like the one around my neck..." I said absently, turning the necklace over to find a small butterfly/dick shaped thing.

"What?" asked Ray, looking at the necklace and noticing the symbol and, judging by his face, thinking nothing of it.

"I said, like the one around my neck" I said louder, stepping closer to ray so that he could see the pornographic-looking butterfly/dick. And he gasped.

"Ok, when you two have stopped staring into each others eyes, we have a murder to catch, question and beat the hell out of. Raymondo, any clues telling us who his next victim is?" asked Hunt for the doorway.

"Well all evidence so for leads to a 'Lewis Collins'."

"Um, Gene? Can I ask you something that you probably won't do?"

"You're good at wasting my time, Charlie, I'll give you that. Continue"

"Well, if you look closely at this map, the murder locations are North, South, East and soon West of one point..."

"Which is?"

"...which is this Police Station, Superintendant"

"What are you suggesting William?"

"That you send some unifrom and a couple of officers to Kingston Road to deal with Tucker and the rest of us go the basement and see if his base is there..."

"You can't go to the basement, you don't have a key!"

I simply held up my necklace. "Amanda hates carrying keys"

"...alright. But how would Tucker get in?"

"Gene. He's a criminal, there are a million ways to brake into that place..."

"Go on then, name 'um."

"No, just listen to me for once Gene. He might be there"

"Alright fine. Uniform, DS Clarke and myself will go to Kingston Street. You and Raymondo can play the heros of 4am" He replied, looking at his watch to check the time.

"OK whatever."

"Oh, and James? Untuck your trousers from your hi-tops, would ya?"

"Not a chance" I answered, dragging Ray out of the office.

"Ok, which way is the basement?"

"Left out of the room and down the stairs"

"Gotcha" I responded, grabbing my sisters gun from her desk and anwered Ray's questioning look with "It's ok, I'm not gonna use it. It's just incase"

The basement was cold this time in the morning and the only sound was the soft footsteps of myself and DCI Carling. As my fingers touched the rusting banister of the last flight of stairs, I was shivering uncontrollably.

"Stay calm, Hailey"

"Helpful words Raymondo" I whispered.

"Indeed they are, but DCI Carling is gonna need even more helpful words judging by the gun pointed to his head."

I turned around to face Ray with a gun being pointed to his head.

"I suppose you are in need of introductions? I am Paul Tucker. And you are DS Amanda Clarke?"

"Um, no. I'm her sister"

"Oh, so it's Hailey Clarke. I used to know a Hailey Clarke. She actually worked here. Oh well, bye bye WPC Clarke."

"What?..." I didn't have time to ask because my words were stopped by a heavy metal bar colliding with my skull.

I'd have thought with the shear force of that metal bar, I'd have waken up with the worst headache imaginable, if I'd have woken up at all. And I was surprised because I did wake up, but there was no headache. No injuries. Nothing. I don't know where I was. I was lying on the cold floor if that helped. With police officers everywhere. Maybe Gene and the uniform had found me. But what about Ray? Where was he?

"Ray?" I shouted, getting to my feet. I shook my head at the thought of them shooting him. I looked at my surroundings and to the floor. I looked at my feet, black converse as usual. But they were longer than usual, they were nearly up to my knees and they were under black skinny jeans. Nothing unusual there. Although, I don't remember wearing braces and a plain white t-shirt. And so many chunky bracelets. My hands flew immediatly to my neck. The key was missing.

"Raymondo. If you don't mind, we have a suspect over there that's looking utterly bewildered" A familier voice broke my confusion.

"Yes Gov. You, Madonna look-a-like. What your name?" DCI Carling asked as he walked over to me.

"Ray..." I said, absently.

"Yeah that's me. DI Carling. what's your name?"

"Oh my god, I thought they'd shot you" I said relieved and I hugged him.

"Um, ok. Well, no-one was shooting. There was a bomb, massive explosion. Although, I noticed you were hit over the head with something massive..."

"A metal pole. They whacked me over the head with it. He was there, he was going to shoot you...wait a minute. Did you say DI Carling?"

"Well don't sound too surprised"

"No, it's not that. It's just...you're DCI Carling...unless I've...if you're DI, then that means..."

"That I'm Decective Inspector, yeah. Well done div, now we need to take you down to the station."

"Oi Hi-tops! You better co-operate!" roared the familiar voice again.

"Oh, shut up Gene Hunt. Always were fiery and impatient." I muttered. "Now, if your a DI, Ray, that means that this...HOLY CRAP, WAIT A MINUTE. WHERE IS THE NEAREST NEWSPAPER?"

I looked around for a newspaper stand and finally found one but all the press and passers-by. I ran to it and picked up a newspaper.

"May 23rd 1982...1982...1982, I was born in 1982. What the hell is happening? This isn't right, none of this is..."

I took my oppotunity. Ray was staring at me with a look of pure confusion. Gene had given up asking the prossy what she was doing and had started walking over, followed by officers and uniform. But that didn't stop me running.

I knew they were after me. Ray, Gene, multiple members of uniform. I just needed to run. 1982. May 23rd. I'm not even born yet. Why did I come back to this time? How did I come back to this time? Converse were easy to run in and I knew London well, having lived here all my life and I knew shortcuts because of running with Metropolitan Police on more than one occasion. So, where could I go? Nowhere but the station. I knew the way, oddly well.

I ran through the doors, closely followed by Ray and Gene. Obviously, Gene knew I was running here and asked uniform to get his car. His beloved Quattro. But suddenly I stopped. It all looked so different. The walls weren't they're usual colour and the desks were mixed up instead of in perfect lines. I walked slowly up to the office infront of me, just as Ray and Gene walked through the doors. My pace quickened until I ran towards the door. I should have read "DCI Raymond Carling". But no. This was 1982 after all. It read "DCI Gene Hunt".

"Now come on, don't make me hit you. We just need to ask you a few questions about today. can you do that for us?"

"Sure, Superin...um, DCI Hunt."

"Good, Raymondo, lead her in, would you?"

"Sure Gov"


	2. Chapter 2

Wild is the Wind

Patterns

Part 2

The interigation room hadn't changed much, having only been in one once. It wasn't my fault of cause, I didn't murder anyone. I was just an onlooker at the time.

"Ok, what's your name?" asked Gene.

"Hailey Clarke"

"Bit of a feminie name for someone like you. So, for the rest of this interview I'm going to call you various blokes names..."

"Just like last time"

"So, you've been in custardy before, George?"

"Once. I was an onlooker to a murder."

"Well done. Well, this is a murder too. Multiple murders. You're lucky to be alive. The blow to the head that you recieve is probably hard enough to put you in a coma. But here you are, Dylan. Now, what was the last thing you remember?"

"You're not going to believe me..."

"Try me, Ethan." said Gene, growing impatient.

"Fine. I was looking for jobs in the papers. There aren't a lot of jobs you can do when you have degrees in Biology and Psychology..."

"Oh brilliant. Another Psychiatry..."

"Psychology, Mr Hunt..."

"Same thing..."

"AS I WAS SAYING." I shouted as our voice grew louder. "I was looking at jobs and my sister came through the door with her usual sarcasm and scotch..."

"Sounds like my kind of woman"

"Indeed. You'd get on well. And then you...um Superintendent...um..."

"Superintendant Mackintosh"

"Sure whatever. We'll he called, I guess, and said we should both go to the station...although I was under the bridge wasn't I? I guess he said there then. I'm not a police officer but my sister is..."

"She from around here? Maybe I've had the pleasure of crossing paths with her."

"I dunno, do you know any DS Clarke's?"

"There's a uniform with a daughter named Amanda, does that help?"

"Maybe. Superintendent Mackintosh sent me and Ray to the bridge to stop Paul Tucker but Tucker got Ray and put a gun to his head. Tucker called me WPC Clarke and then I got hit over the head with a metal pole." I sat back as Gene processed my story.

"That is most likely complete and utter rubbish. Are you a WPC?"

"No"

"Do you want to be a WPC?"

"I don't...what?"

"I said, do you want to be a WPC?"

"Um...yeah, ok"

"Good, now untuck your trousers from your lovely black hi-tops, Joseph and we'll get you a uniform..."

"I'm not wearing a bloody uniform. You can stamp my arse by all means but I'm not wearing a sodding uniform"

"WPC's are uniform. You are wearing one"

"I make it just gone 2 O'clock, Gov. I'll buy you a drink if you don't make me where a uniform."

"...Large?"

I smiled. "A Gene Genie Large"

"...Very well, Lewis. No uniform it is. I'll look forward to seeing your a..."

"I'm gonna wear my own clothes before that horrible idea enters your mind"

"One can dream. I'm sure they'll all be happy that we've found a replacment of Shaz"

"Wow, Chris is going to be happier than you can imagine" I said, full of sarcasm.

...

"Right, we don't have much time for introductions so I'll keep it short. This is WPC Hailey Clarke. Yes, I know. The name is far too feminine, feel free to call her

"Billy", "Harry" or whatever blokes name that you wish. Like I said, we don't have a lot of time between questioning and beating up the suspects so I'll be quick.

Clarke, meet DI Carling, DI Drake and DC Skelton, and of course vice versa. Now, I want a prime suspect by half past or none of you'll get to stamp Oliver's arse..."

"Who's Oliver?" Asked DC Skelton.

"WPC Clarke, you div. Were you listening to anything I was saying? Now chop chop, you have until half past, go."

I signed. "You always were too hard on them, weren't you Gene?"

"In here it's Gov. And yes. Now, I believe you owe me a drink"

...

"Ok, what makes you so sure that it's Tucker?" Gene Hunt asked, taking a huge sip from his "Gene Genie Large" scotch.

"What makes you so sure that it's not?"

"Well, for starters, I can't believe I'm saying this but, we need more evidence. All of what the suspects have said so far points against him. He's a tricky one that

one. He tends to murder in patterns and only murders people who are close to the person he's trying to interigate."

"Well, who are Mick Richards, Colin Brake and Jackie Rayner close to?"

"Who are they? Therepy pals of yours?"

"There were murdered when...never mind. It's not important. Who's been murdered this time?"

"Gareth Carlson in the steeple of St George the Martyl..." Gene pointed to the street.

"Long Lane. That's East. What else?"

"Then Jack Turner in the Old Bethnal Green Town Hall"

"That's North-ish East...technically"

"And then today at Holborn Viaduct, where we found you. David Jones"

"And that's North. It doesn't make sense. The station can't be the base..."

"Than where the hell can it be?"

"Boss, there's been a call in" Chris started.

"Well you know what to do. Answer it and ask who the bloody hell it is..."

"I did Boss...they told us the details for the next murder"

"Go on Chris" I said, smiling with a pen in hand, ready to mark the next one off.

"Green Park. 6 O'clock"

"Green park...but that's...wait a minute. Where are Green Park, Holborn Viaduct, Bethnal Green and St George the Martyr..."

"Are you going anywhere with this WPC Clarke?" Gene asked, drinking his scotch.

"Actually yeah. Get Ray and Alex. I think I've got it."

And he did. He called them over because I think he believed me. I didn't expect him to. Maybe he just wanted to laugh at me.

"Go on then" Gene urged.

"Ok, so because of my questioning we thought that Tucker's base was the station's basement. But if you look at the pattern of these murders, it doesn't add up.

Tucker works in patterns. Crosses or square patterns usually. Each one a murder and each person related to a main target in some way. Like family or just friends.

Collegues maybe."

"Get on with it. We have four hours."

"Alright. So, if you look at the pattern, it's in a cross/square shape. And we need to find this main target. The thing with Tucker murders is that there are four basic

murders and then one where people know, people care and it often brings down businesses. Like if the main target is a bank owner, if he dies than it's the end of

the bank more or less. This pattern consists of St George the Martyr, Brethnal Town Hall, Holdborn Viaduct and later today, Green Park. Now it isn't certain who the

next target is..."

"Yeah it is." Chris spoke up.

"What? Why didn't you say?"

"You never asked. Anyway, it's someone called Stephanie Landy"

"Brilliant, Chris. Thank-you. Ok, now we need to think of who these people are related to." I reached into my pocket and found some money, enough for another

round of drinks.

"Chris, get the five of us some drinks, we might be here a while" I said, giving him the money.

"Ok"

"Now, Gareth Carlson, Jack Turner, David Jones and soon Stephanie Landy. Who are they?"

"Well, Jack Turner is a retired cop from C-Division" Gene said.

"Bloody Hyde. And the others?"

"Stephanie Landy is PC Micheal Landy's wife" said Ray.

"Brilliant. And Carlson?"

"Gareth Carlson was leading the armed robbery from a few days ago. He would only talk to Ray though" Alex remembered.

"Thankyou Chris" I said as he came back. "Now, who do Carlson, Turner, Jones and Landy have in common?"

"Well they're all police officers or close to police officers." said Chris.

"Well done div, now sit down and be quiet" Gene shouted. "Continue, Harry"

I rolled my eyes at him. "Now, as I was saying. WHO do they have in common? Ray. Gareth Carlson would only talk to you. I believe that you used to date PC Landy's

wife, is that correct?"

"Yeah"

"And...what about Turner?"

"I went to school with him"

"You went...you...it's you, Ray."

"You what?"

"It's you. The person they have in common is you. The main target is you. But, where is it going to be." I shouted, slamming my fist onto the table.

They were staring at me. I hated that. I looked down at the map, the pattern that the murders made...

"TOWER 42" I shouted, proud of myself for figuring it out.

"Tower 42? What the bloody hell...?"

"Tower 42 is the 5th tallest building in London, so what?" said Alex, calmly.

"Yes, but how did you know that?"

"Um, I just...do"

"...ok. Well, if it's the 5th tallest building in London, it's still pretty damn high. You'll definately die if you jump...or get pushed..." I said slowly, looking at Ray,

sympathetically.

"Metropolitan Police is in Greater London, isn't it?"

"Yes. Point being, Joshua?"

"Well Tower 42 is the TALLEST BUILDING IN GREATER LONDON. That's it" I said, drinking my scotch.

"It's perfect. So many people love to see that building. It's still new so people want to see it, even though it's been here...what...two years? It's perfect. It's so high

so everyone will see..."

"Tower 42?" asked Gene.

"Tower 42" I nodded, drinking again.


End file.
